


so say the word and i will find you

by Ashstriferous



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: M/M, i blame this on hurry deer and weasel, sometimes you take rp threads and you make art, there's some sonia/nessa here if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashstriferous/pseuds/Ashstriferous
Summary: After a month of no contact, Raihan would do anything to see Leon. Even if that means throwing a party for him at the drop of a hat.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	so say the word and i will find you

The first rays of morning light roused him gracelessly from sleep. He lifted his head, squinting at the open curtains as if somehow they were responsible for his hangover. A weight in his bed shifted beside him, ultimately manifesting in a foot shoved against his back. Nessa grunted as she pulled her pillow over her head, muttering something akin to “quit moving,” albeit significantly less polite. 

Raihan didn’t remember much about the night before, but judging by Nessa’s presence and his missing rotom phone, he could piece together the details. He’d gotten drunk -- too drunk, really -- and she’d dragged him out of whatever bar or party they’d ended up at. At some point, he’d tried drunk texting, and she’d hid the phone away before he could do any more damage than he had while she wasn’t paying attention. 

It was the same thing that happened last week, and two weeks prior to that. They’d been peeling each other off of bathroom floors and away from bad hookups for as long as Raihan could remember. It wasn’t the first time she’d passed out at his place after taking care of him. Even reversing the roles wouldn’t have made the situation any more outlandish. More than once, he’d snatched her phone away before she could start wistfully scrolling through Sonia’s Rotogram photos. 

Ultimately, it was the siren’s call of his double life as a social media influencer that dragged Raihan from his tangled web of sheets and blankets. Nessa protested one last time, this time not even in coherent english, before settling back down. Raihan rolled his eyes at her -- the only time he dared to do so in her presence -- and made his way down the stairs leading up to his loft. 

Tracking down Rotom was easy enough. The second it heard Raihan’s footsteps, it began buzzing and rattling within the drawer that Nessa had stuffed it into. He opened the drawer, chuckling faintly as the perturbed little creature rammed itself into Raihan’s bare shoulder a few times. Its screen flickered on only once it deemed that its anger had been fully worked out, displaying an unending stream of likes and comments on the photos he had posted the night before. He glanced through the first five before shrugging. 

“Go ahead and clear them all,” he said, and watched as the notifications effectively disappeared into digital oblivion. 

All except for one. 

Several years back, when Raihan was only just starting to amass a following on his social media handles, he’d convinced Leon to start up his own account. Less technically inclined than his counterpart, Leon hadn’t really understood the appeal, but humored Raihan all the same. He’d even smiled when Raihan posted his first picture -- a close up shot of the brim of his cap -- for him. Though he’d posted a few photos to humor Raihan, it had eventually gone by the wayside. At some point, his PR team had picked up on it, and had used it as yet another venue from which to sell Leon’s presence to all of Galar. The only thing that hadn’t changed was that first photo, now worn as Leon’s profile picture.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had posted to the account. Without a PR team or a champion to sell, his Rotogram had all but been forgotten. Even Raihan, _extremely_ casual observer of all things Leon, barely thought of it anymore. He was better off relying on the feeds of anyone _but_ him for any and all Leon related news.

And yet, there was that hat-turned-crown on his screen, one of the first comments on the pictures Raihan had posted the night prior. He didn’t even have to open his phone to read the message, short as it was. 

_Wish I was there._

* * *

“No.” 

Nessa’s voice was firm, exasperation clear on her face. She was perched on a stool in front of Raihan’s breakfast bar, having devoured the breakfast he’d had delivered especially for her. Now, she regarded him with all the suspicion of a bribed individual -- which of course, she was. 

“Please?” 

“ _No._ ” 

Optimistic though he had been, it wasn’t a surprise that Nessa had denied his request. Where he could bribe friends like Piers or Milo with plates of food, Nessa was harder to crack than that. Her tastes were elegant, and no one knew their personal value more than she did. Because of that, debts to her ran far deeper than they did to anyone else in the league. Raihan knew that all too well, considering the fact that he had personally funded a number of her more lavish purchases.

In this case, though, he doubted Nessa was simply holding out for a better payout. Hungover as they both were, asking her to not only go out with him _again_ , but also organize an entire party in a matter of hours _while_ still nursing said hangover was a hard ask. He’d been scraping his brains for a suitable trade all morning -- a breakfast of crepes was merely the beginning.

“There’s not nearly enough time,” she continued. “The invitations would have to be sent… now, you’d have to schedule food and entertainment, never mind the fact you’d need to secure a venue all at the last minute.”

“Yeah, and?” 

Nessa clenched her jaw. Normally, the incredulity on her face would be laughable. Cool and collected as she was, Nessa was helpless to her fury, and that never failed to rouse a laugh out of Raihan. Even if it ended in pain, it was usually worth it. 

“And for what reason? You want to throw a party solely so that you can ogle at Leon all night and then lament the fact that you missed your chance again, right?” 

It was Raihan’s turn to stare at her. Her prediction wasn’t off base -- that was how things had been for years between Leon and himself. Night after night he professed to Nessa that “tonight would be the night,” and morning after morning, she’d be the one to console him for failing to shoot his shot. Even if it bruised his ego, he couldn’t blame her for feeling that tonight would be no different. 

“It’s not about that,” he finally said. His voice was low, bordering on thoughtful. “When was the last time you saw Leon?” 

Nessa shrugged a slim shoulder. “The championship, I suppose.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Nessa seemed surprised at his answer, and Raihan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. In some ways, it was validating to know that he wasn’t the only person who thought it odd for him to have not seen Leon for nearly a month. Yet it confirmed his suspicions that something had to be wrong, that there was something that Leon wasn’t telling him. 

“Raihan,” Nessa began, but Raihan waved her off. He turned, making his way back toward the stairs to the loft. There was more to do, and he was burning precious daylight by dragging the conversation out any longer.

“It’s fine. I can pull it together. Call Piers up and --” Whatever Raihan was trying to say was promptly knocked out of him, along with the wind in his lungs. Stumbling forward, he caught himself on the railing of the stairs, throwing his head back to offer Nessa a bewildered stare. A Pokeball lay on the ground between them, with an equally as dazed Toxapex looking between the two of them. 

“You are _not_ having Piers perform for a _party_.” 

And that was that.

* * *

The image of Leon’s face the last time he and Raihan had seen each other had been burned into his brain. That day, as the crowd surged onto the pitch to crowd the new champion and interview the old, Raihan had snuck down into the locker room. The league officials at least had the decency to keep the press out of there, and so when Leon finally managed to shake away his relentless pursuers, they were alone. 

Naturally, Leon had smiled as if there was nothing wrong. He’d seen Leon wearing that smile with a bloody lip, a bruised ego, and everything in between. Once, not long after Raihan became a gym leader, he’d asked him how he managed to keep smiling. The former champion had pretended not to know what he was talking about. It wasn’t until sometime after his father’s death, during a time when Leon was the only person around to raise Hop, that Raihan figured out the answer for himself. 

“Don’t look so upset,” Leon had told him in the locker room. “We’ve had such a champion time.” 

Those words had been the same ones that he’d been offering the media, the heartbroken fans, anyone that came up to him between the pitch and the locker room. But where he’d once spoken them with all the confidence of a trained professional, when he spoke to Raihan it had sounded just as hollow as the smile he wore looked. In that moment, Leon looked years older than he was.

And he didn’t dare stop to let Raihan worry about him. Offering a half-hearted charizard pose, Leon had kept walking through the room, allowing the doors to swing shut behind him. Raihan had been too stunned to follow. 

He hadn’t told Nessa about that. He hadn’t told anyone about that. He and Leon were good at wordless secrets, and this was no exception. Except, as hours of silence turned into days, and as those days gave way to weeks, Raihan had begun to wonder if that was the best idea. He’d sent a few messages here and there, always inquisitive and never intrusive. He figured all the answers he needed were in the silence that followed. 

Maybe he was grasping at straws with this party. He wasn’t even sure if Leon would come. But it was the first olive branch he’d been offered since that day, and he wasn’t going to take it for granted. 

Despite her protests and lack of understanding of the situation, Nessa was at least on board. She’d made a couple of calls to people she referred to solely as “industry contacts” and managed to secure a catering company willing to feed the moderately sized guest list they’d thrown together. She’d even managed to namedrop just enough to secure a relatively well-known DJ. 

Naturally, Piers’s invitation had gone out with a personal apology from Raihan. Really, he didn’t see what the big deal about having him perform was. But Nessa wasn’t having any of it, and he was desperate for her help.

The only thing they’d struggled to find was a venue. Most of the hotels were booked, and those that weren’t found themselves unwilling or unable to accommodate them on such a short notice. Nessa had suggested the gym itself, but Raihan had quickly shot that down. Historical significance notwithstanding, he doubted Leon wanted anything to do with the place he’d lost to what might as well have been death incarnate. 

Instead, they’d settled on the platform that Raihan’s home rested on, one that overlooked not just the Vault, but all of Hammerlocke and the wild area beyond it. For as long as Galar could remember, this had been the home of Hammerlocke’s guardian. It wouldn’t be the first time it had hosted a soiree, though he got the feeling these events were usually just a touch more refined.

No matter. In just a few hours, they’d managed to turn the yard into a dining area, and the courtyard into a dance floor. Already, the crowds were starting to trickle in, having followed a carpeted and velvet roped walkway up to the security flanked elevators. Gym leaders from around the league, both major, minor, and former, had settled in. Some drank from champagne flutes, while others downed shots. A few brave souls had already settled onto the dancefloor, attracting a crowd. 

Raihan watched all of this from the steps leading inside. Nessa, who had left only to clean up and dress herself back in Hulbury, stood beside him. She wore a cerulean cocktail dress and a self-satisfied smirk on her lips. They both knew that this had only come together because of her. Raihan dreaded what the final payout would be. 

“Your time to shine,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. Raihan made a face, scanning over the crowd for the third time that minute. So far, he hadn’t seen Leon. He’d sent Flygon to wait at the station some time ago, preventing all possibility of Leon getting lost along the way. 

Though he failed to spot the purple hair and crowned snapback that he recognized as Leon, a streak of red hair did manage to catch his attention. He nudged Nessa with an elbow and nodded in the woman’s direction. 

“Don’t let me keep you,” he said. Nessa shot him a incensed look, only slightly offset by the darkening patches of color on her cheeks. Nevertheless, she stalked away from him and off toward Sonia. 

Maybe the final total wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

The hours wore on, and while more faces kept trickling in, there was still no sign of Galar’s former champion. Though Raihan had made a point to take it easy on the liquor at first, wanting to be sober for… whatever he planned to do once Leon arrived, he found it increasingly difficult to keep to that promise. Eventually, the glasses of champagne in his hand became something else entirely -- an entire bottle of Fireball. 

Tucking himself into a quiet corner, where the bass of the speakers wasn’t quite so loud, he opened up Rotogram for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The messages stared back at him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was being taunted.

_**ChampionTime:** Wish I was there._

_**Hammerlocked:** @ChampionTime you’re in luck. _

It didn’t mean anything. Leon hadn’t wanted to speak to him for over a month. If he’d had any interest, he would have done something more than comment on a picture. There were weeks of unanswered messages in their conversation history. Any one of those would have been a better starting point if he was interested in anything more than idle conversation. Instead, Raihan had taken a platitude and turned it into an ordeal. 

Tilting his head back, Raihan swallowed down an entire mouthful of cinnamon whisky. It burned his throat and made his head spin, but at least it felt better than dwelling on his thoughts. Another mouthful down, and he became aware of how the bass seemed to pound perfectly in time with his pulse.

* * *

At some point, his foot had begun tapping.

* * *

His body pulled itself to its feet.

* * *

Ambling onto the dance floor.

* * *

And pressing back into someone else’s body.

“I’m waiting for someone,” he said, words wobbling with a cadence only manageable by drunks. His newfound partner let out a warm, mirthful breath. It made Raihan’s stomach flip, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

One dance wouldn’t hurt. 

Without bothering to look at who had joined him, Raihan pressed himself back against his partner. He was shorter, but when wasn’t that the case when it came to Raihan’s “friends.” He also wasn’t the best dancer -- a bit stiff and unpracticed with his movements. Still, Raihan had had worse. At least this man was willing to comply with the unspoken directions Raihan offered up.

Lazily, he lifted a hand and traced it along the jaw of his new companion. There was a patch of stubble there, one that didn’t quite extend all the way up or down the jaw. He thought it funny, familiar even, but the liquor ebbing through his mind kept him from thinking too deeply about it. Instead, he pushed back further still, finding thick soft hair not far behind the ear. His fingers tightened in it playfully, then outright tugged. He tried not to laugh at the moan that followed.

And failed miserably. 

“Easy, big guy,” Raihan crooned. He tilted his head a little further back, burying his face in purple hair tucked behind an ear. His teeth grazed the lobe as he spoke again. “If that’s what gets you going, I’m happy to give more.” 

Raihan’s hand eased itself out of the man’s hair, brushing over the opposite ear that Raihan had spoken into. It settled onto his cheek, taking in the warmth there with an almost impish smile. Inexperienced, he figured. Not usually Raihan’s cup of tea, but he could work with it. 

“Relax,” he murmured, then nipped lightly at his earlobe. The man’s breath shook, and he took that as encouragement to keep going. He traced kisses and bites down his neck, then angled back up to nip at the purple stubble that outlined his jaw. 

Funny, how familiar it was. Hilarious, how he stammered out Raihan’s name in such a familiar tone. 

The other man leaned back, fixing golden eyes on Raihan’s own. There was a wild, baffled look there, complemented by quickly reddening cheeks. He stepped back, releasing Raihan from the comfortable grip he’d worked himself into. 

“Come on, Leon,” Raihan crooned. He smiled pleasantly back after the man -- 

\-- and then felt his stomach rise up into his throat.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Raihan moaned. His head had come to rest on the edge of his tub, not far from the toilet that he’d been curled around for the past twenty minutes. The door was shut, but he could still make out the faint shadow of Leon on the other side. He’d seated himself outside the door even as Raihan had insisted that he leave. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Leon said, likely for the hundredth time. Raihan believed it less and less every time he said it. 

“I didn’t get any on your boots, did I?” 

Leon laughed, almost as warm as he had back out on the dance floor. It made Raihan shiver. “No, you didn’t.” 

“Good. Because they looked expensive. Since when did you wear expensive boots, anyway?” 

This time, there was no laugh. Raihan waited, counting out thirty seconds of no response, before pushing himself to his feet. Though his head swam, it was enough that he could ignore the feeling if he really focused on something else. He made the target of that focus his toothbrush as he scrubbed out his mouth, then the bottle of mouthwash as he lifted it to his lips. 

Leon was still where when Raihan finally opened the door. He didn’t say anything, though, didn’t even bother to look up at him. Raihan did the next best thing, then, and forced Leon to look at him by sitting directly in front of him. 

“I didn’t think you would come,” he said. 

“I didn’t think I would either.” Leon wore a rueful smile. His cheeks were still a touch red, though not nearly as red as they had been earlier. Back on the dance floor, his cheeks had matched the new jacket he wore. 

“Is it too much?” 

“I said I wanted to go to a party, didn’t I?”

 _Not in so many words,_ Raihan wanted to say back. _Also didn’t say you wanted to dance with me like that. Oh and hey, where were you?_ He pushed the thoughts to the bottom of his brain. It didn’t matter how many cufants were in the room, he’d continue ignoring them for as long as he had to. 

“I could have asked, though.” 

Leon shook his head. The smile on his lips faded, looking far closer to the one that Leon had flashed at him back in the locker room. It made Raihan’s gut twist again, and the liquor on his mind _almost_ convinced him to say something about it. 

But those were cufants, and they were still being ignored. 

“Plenty of time left in the night,” he offered. When Leon shook his head, Raihan pressed further. “Come on, there’s a whole buffet of food out there, waiting to be eaten.” 

For a brief second, Leon seemed tempted. Raihan even started to push himself to his feet, but a hand on his wrist kept him from going too far. He waited for Leon to say something and, when he ultimately didn’t, decided to settle back down and keep waiting. 

“Why?” he finally asked. When Raihan blinked dumbly at him, he continued, “You didn’t have to do any of this.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“Raihan --” Somewhere in the back of his mind, a cufant trumpeted. The sound was almost too loud for him to ignore, but try he did. Maybe he might have won out, if Leon hadn’t fixed him with an almost pleading gaze.

“I hadn’t seen you,” he finally managed, sighing even as he did. “Figured you could use the break from… whatever you’ve been working on.”

“Myself?” Leon offered. It was the answer that Raihan had been afraid of, another cufant that he hadn’t wanted to think about. The look that he’d seen in the locker room was not one that a man in control wore. And even if Raihan wanted to know more (and he did), he knew he wasn’t in the right place to do so.

“You could have told me,” Raihan said, softer still. “I could have helped you.” 

“I didn’t want to weigh you down. I didn’t want to weigh anyone -- Ow!” 

Leon flinched back, hiding from Raihan’s foot. It had planted itself firmly against the ex-champion’s shin, and was rearing back for another blow just as quickly. A moment later and his hand shot out, clutching Leon by the ankle and holding him in place. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Shutting you up?” Raihan offered. Leon’s brows only lowered. “We’re mates, yeah? Don’t need to worry about any of that weighing down nonsense. It’s what we’re supposed to do.” 

Leon shifted. There was something in his gaze, words unspoken on his lips. He chewed on the words for a long moment, before finally tilting his head so that Raihan could no longer look him in the eye.

“I haven’t been the best of mates.” 

Raihan shifted. He leaned forward, weight shifting onto his knees as he angled his long legs back behind him. His hands came to rest on Leon’s shoulders, gripping him tightly even as the former champion did his best to wallow. A deft shake drew his attention upward, gold eyes meeting wild blue before chasing back downward. 

“Been through it, Leon,” he said. “No one expects you to be on top of your game.” 

“I’ve always been --” Leon trailed off as Raihan placed his index finger over Leon’s lips. The fire on his cheeks sparked anew, and part of the dragon master wanted nothing more than to ask after it. 

“I know.” Raihan lowered his finger, opting to instead tip Leon’s chin upward. “But you can’t be the best at everything.” 

“Sounds fake.” 

The laugh Raihan offered was a soft one. The hand on Leon’s chin finally dropped down to his shoulder, gripping him as tight as he could. It was the closest he dared come to a hug right now. 

Naturally, Leon had other plans. Before Raihan could so much as protest, Leon had tugged him downward. It was an awkward angle for a hug, and his knees were already aching from the uncomfortable position, but he lingered as long as Leon would allow him. He could feel a faint tremble in his chest, one that emanated outward and shook his shoulders. 

“Leon?” The man only shook his head. “Leon --”

“You said you were waiting for someone,” Leon spat, not yet looking up. “You should go find them.” 

Raihan exhaled, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He tightened his grip around Leon’s shoulders, then buried his face in Leon’s hair -- snapback be damned. It clattered to the floor and rolled off to the side, forgotten for the time being. 

“He’s right here.” Raihan said, and it felt like a weight lifted from his chest. It wasn’t a confession, and Nessa was sure to give him hell about it in the morning, but that was a conversation for a different time. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon finally sniffed. “Must’ve ruined your night.”

Raihan only shook his head as he forced himself to stand. He offered Leon a hand, and smiled when the other man took it. 

“Are you kidding?” Raihan threw his free hand in the air, cocking his hand into the charizard symbol. “It’s been a champion time.” 

Through his few remaining tears, Leon began to smile. That smile quickly gave way to a laugh, and that laugh to an out and out giggle. Raihan could only stare helplessly as the laughter boomed through the narrow hall, watching the dark purple waves of Leon’s hair bounce in time with his movement. 

“Come on, big guy,” Raihan said once the laughter started to ebb. He pulled Leon toward him, then placed an arm around his waist. “Let’s get some food in you.”

* * *

“Raihan?” Leon’s voice was haggard, worn out by a night spent doing nothing but talking. He’d been quiet for the last ten or so minutes, watching the night sky slowly bleed into the faint grey of dawn. The last guests had left hours ago, and Nessa was nowhere to be found. He could only hope that boded well for whatever she and Sonia had gotten up to that night. 

A lot had been said that night, and yet not nearly enough. He got the feeling he’d only begun to scrape the surface of whatever weighed on Leon’s mind. There were pieces about the Chairman, about Hop, and about losing himself. He mentioned something about a tower, and about how many nightmares he’d had in the last month.

He bounced around in typical Leon fashion. Raihan might have thought it funny, if the circumstances weren’t what they were.

“Yeah?” Raihan finally said, tilting his head as he spoke. His cheek came to rest against the top of Leon’s head. The man had settled against his shoulder some handful of hours ago, and had shifted only to accept Raihan’s blazer when he started shivering. 

Dimly, Raihan wondered what Leon might look like in his more familiar jacket. Maybe if he got lucky, he’d find out soon enough. 

“I missed you,” Leon mumbled, drawing Raihan from his thoughts. He smiled into his companion’s hair. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

Once again, Leon lapsed into silence. He was still enough that Raihan wondered if he might have fallen asleep. Strong as he liked to say he was, he doubted he’d be able to lift the solid hunk of mass that was Leon. 

But after a moment he shifted, tilting his head to peer up at Raihan with those blazing eyes of his. 

“Can we dance like that again sometime?” 

It was Raihan’s turn to flush, Raihan’s turn to stammer. Turning his head away, he hid a smile, before finally managing a nod. 

“Tomorrow?” 

Leon’s smile was wide, and nothing at all like the one he’d given Raihan in the locker room. He figured it was a step in the right direction. 

“Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ashstriferous) for more yelling about raileon.


End file.
